


isn't it lovely, all alone?

by steelatoms



Category: Constantine (TV), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Demon possession, Depression, Getting Back Together, M/M, Post-Season/Series 04, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 16:47:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18578542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelatoms/pseuds/steelatoms
Summary: three months following neron being banished from his body, desmond gets a visit.





	isn't it lovely, all alone?

**Author's Note:**

> ilyjc - i love you john constantine

Torture isn’t something someone can forget.

 

For Desmond, re-adjusting to normal life following demon possession and literal Hell, was an impossible task, especially when finding out that the people he knew, friends, family, acquaintances and exes never even realised he was gone so long, and had assumed he had went away travelling.

 

After all he’d seen, all the pain he endured, being forced to live each day felt like another stab of agony every time he opened his eyes.

 

Yet he didn’t regret his choice to keep his memories; he  _ had  _ to remember.

 

Forgetting someone like John Constantine would somehow have been worse; he had been everything at once - loving, caring, beautiful, toxic, damaged and broken.

 

And just as he warned, he had dragged Desmond down into the depths of Hell with him, had proven that misery truly did love company.

 

And yet, he couldn’t forget, because although the memories of Neron murdering people whilst wearing his body kept him up in cold sweat and hysterical tears at night, he didn’t want to forget him either, forget the nights they would hold each other, and how John would tell him fantastical, wonderful tales of the marvellous, terrifying and occasionally beautiful things he had seen.  He would also speak of the dismal horrors, usually after a few drinks, and somehow the barkeep (former, he had also apparently resigned) knew John wasn’t one to tell anyone except those he truly trusted of his fears.

 

John trusted him.

 

He fucked up.

 

He had sold his soul because he loved him more than he ever thought possible, much more than his own life, and he didn’t regret his decision to sacrifice himself, even if it was stupid and short-sighted, but he knew that after everything, all the damage and trauma he endured, he had to stay away.  Part of him was mad at John for sending him away, for damning him to hundreds of years of torment (time passed differently there), but truthfully, he was more angry at himself.

 

His rage and dismissal of John was an act of self-preservation; he couldn’t deal with more pain, it was killing him.  Instead, he channelled his self-hatred into a brick wall, blocking John out because if he focused on it, it would destroy him.

 

So when his ex-boyfriend came knocking one day, three months after they had last parted (he could remember the tears in John’s eyes and wanted to hold him, to tell him he forgave him and that he loved him, but he couldn’t go through the pain again), it threw him -- it threw him to  _ fucking Alaska, _ so much so that he froze, not knowing how to respond.

 

_ “Johnny?”  _ his voice didn’t feel like his own, all unsure and trembling, and for a second, he was almost worried that he was possessed again.

 

The warlock’s guilt ridden eyes met his, “Hi, Dez.”   
  


Unable to form a response of any sort, Desmond moved to slam the door in his face, but John wedged his hand in the crevice, gasping in pain a little at the pressure that ebbed through his nerve endings; somehow, he didn’t seem to care at the physical pain however, and simply continued.

 

_ “Dez, please.”  _ John’s voice wavered a little, and Desmond could smell the smoke, alcohol and anxiety radiating through his body; Neron wasn’t the only one who could tell what Johnny was feeling.

 

Giving a defeated sigh, Desmond opened the door, trying to awkwardly hide the fact that he  _ still  _ hadn’t unpacked anything save for clothing; it had occurred to him, but each time he looked at a box, he felt lonely and nauseous.

 

“Can I come in?” John asked, rubbing his hand where it had been trapped in the door.

 

Desmond wanted to answer ‘no’, to return to his sHell and hide there until all his sorrows had passed, but instead signalled inside with a silent nod.

 

“Nice place you got here.” John looked around, sarcasm mixed with sadness infiltrating his voice in small flecks.

 

The former barkeep nodded as he shut, then locked the door, “Yeah, I, uh, moved.”

 

“I noticed, I had to get Sara to track you down.” John replied, “Not as creepy as it sounds, I promise yeh.”   
  


Desmond didn’t laugh at John’s attempt at humour, something he used to love; instead he huffed solemnly, “What are you doing here, Johnny?  You here to just be a dick about where I live? Because you didn’t exactly tell anybody what actually happened to me, so I had to get back onto my own feet, get another job and--”

 

“Neron’s dead.” John interjected, “Proper, really dead.  We thought we killed him when he escaped you, turns out he was possessing Raymond.  He’s alright, a bit jumpy, but he’ll get over it.”   
  


Desmond crossed his arms over his chest and replied bitterly, “Guess he didn’t have the full ‘go-to-Hell’ experience, then.”

 

“Dez, I didn’t come here to fight.” John admitted.

  
Desmond scoffed, “Then why  _ did  _ you come here?  To tell me a demon is dead?  Well, congrats, I don’t care.  I’m past caring.”

 

“You’re mad, good.” John sighed, “It’s better that way, easier.”

 

_ “None of this is fucking easier!”  _ Desmond yelled, “You fucked up, Johnny, we  _ both  _ did!  What, did you come here and expect tears of joy, hugs?””

 

John murmured, “Maybe I should just go.”

 

Desmond ignored that, “Or, maybe you think we have another chance -- well, we don’t!  You sent me to Hell, that’s not something I can ever get over!”

 

“I offered you a way out way back then.” John retorted, “ And then I offered to wipe your memory!”

 

Desmond laughed humorlessly, “Yeah, because that’ll work.  Newsflash, asshole, it’s not just memories, it’s nightmares, it’s being unable to interact with another person without wanting to fucking kill myself--”

 

_ “--Don’t.”  _ John pleaded, “Don’t ever talk like that, Dez, please!”

 

Desmond snapped back, tears filling his eyes,  _ “Why?   _ Is it not convenient?  Should I be drinking away my sorrows, like you?”

 

“Dez…” John’s eyes also grew wet, “I never wanted to hurt you,” his voice cracked, “It’s just what I do.  I don’t even know why I’m here. I can’t exactly just apologise--”

 

Desmond interjected, “It’d be a damn start!”

 

“Well, fine, then.” John began, “I’m sorry that I sent you to Hell, I am sorry I let Neron get to you and I am bloody sorry you ever even met me!”

 

Desmond was about to reply, but the familiarity of the conversation stopped him, “We’ve done this before.  You’ve said that before.”   
  


“I tried to save you.” John explained, “Broke time trying to keep you from going to Hell, even broke your heart thinking it’d stop you from dying.” a tear rolled down his cheek as he explained, “Bloody did nothin’.   In the end I had to save the world, even if everythin’ in me didn’t care about the world.  _ You  _ meant the world to me, and just like everythin’, I destroyed you.” he sighed shakily, “I should go.  All I’m doing is causing you more pain.”

 

As he turned to leave, however, he felt Desmond grab his arm; he turned around and was pulled into a tearful, lingering kiss.  It felt like home, like everything was okay again, even if he knew it wasn’t. John’s hands found Desmond’s cheek whilst the other man’s hands gripped the lapels of his trenchcoat as they melted into the heartbreaking familiarity.

 

As they broke away, both gasped for breath, Desmond whispering, “I didn’t know.  I’m sorry.”   
  


“I should’ve saved you.” John murmured, “I should’ve given myself up to Neron, but instead I let him take the one thing in my life worth taking.  I’m the one who’s sorry, luv.”   
  


Desmond gave a small laugh, “Maybe we should leave it at ‘we’re both bad at this.’”

 

“Yeah.” John agreed tearfully.

 

Desmond added, “But maybe, maybe we could try again.  This time with no demons, no possessions, no Hell.” he paused, then admitted, “I’ve missed you.  A lot.”   
  


“And I you,” John cupped Desmond’s cheek, desperate, “But you  _ have  _ to listen to me, Dez.  Please. I can’t lose you again, I can’t--”   
  


Desmond cut him off with a kiss, “I know, Johnny.  I promise.”

 

John nodded, and then pulled Desmond in for a tight embrace, clinging to his boyfriend as if he were to turn to dust in his hands.  Desmond buried his face in the warlock’s shoulder, smiling a little through his tears, knowing there were still dark days ahead but that there was hope.

 

For the first time in what felt like hundreds of years, he felt hope, and as terrifying as it was, it was still comforting.

 

When they finally parted, the air between them grew a bit anxious, and John decided to break the ice with a typical snark, “So, all that was pretty dramatic, wasn’t it?”

 

“How many times do I have to tell you, Johnny?” Desmond wiped his eyes, “Feelings aren’t dramatic or stupid, they just happen.”

 

The warlock smiled, “I suppose.  Well, if we’re being all touchy-feely, I suppose I have to say something I’ve never said my entire life.”

 

_ “‘I was wrong’?”  _ Desmond retorted.

 

John scoffed and nudged his boyfriend, “Wanker.” he added, “Actually, I meant to say that I, well, I love you.  Bloody hell.”

 

“Well done.” Desmond smiled, then groaned, “Which I now realise is an inappropriate response.” he rubbed his forehead, “Sorry, long day.  Anyway. I, uh, I love you too, Johnny.”

 

John remarked, “See why I don’t like being so touchy-feely? It’s bloody awkward.  Besides,” he stepped forward with a familiar grin spreading over his face, “I think there’s better ways to express your feelings.”

 

“I don’t disagree.” Desmond smirked, then pulled John in for another kiss, this one more fiery and desperate, as if they were dying without each other.

 

John’s coat hit the ground and the warlock broke away with a smile, “We’re terrible, aren’t we?”   
  
“I think we can make it work.” Desmond grinned back, then pulled John back into another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos/comments are appreciated
> 
> thoughts on 4b so far? i love it, and this underrated couple!


End file.
